Part 1 - Pep Talk
A defeated Royal Purple slumps onto the first locker room bench she finds, her head bouncing softly back against one of the metal doors as she reflects on what had just happened in the ring, and even more so the sorry condition she’d shown up to the arena in a few hours earlier.
From out of sight, the locker room door squeaks open. A figure approaches, lowering themselves onto the same bench a little distance away. Royal Purple doesn’t turn to see who it is. The figure seems calm, composed, deliberate despite the circumstances.
Royal Purple: You're not going to shout at me, are you?
The Dragon: Nope - I saw what you did to the last coach who tried that. Why, would that make this easier for you?
Royal Purple: Than your disappointed Dad thing? Uh...yeah!
The Dragon: Sorry for knowing what gets through that thick head of yours sometimes.
Royal Purple: Why aren’t they scared of me?
The Dragon: Who?
Royal Purple: Fans? Wrestlers? Crew? It’s like I’m some joke to them.
The Dragon: You're an angry teenager with a drinking problem to them, what the fuck is there to be scared of? That’s just a phase they expect you to grow out of. You had one good match here and you’ve looked ‘alright’ on some GRIME shows, that’s all you got. If they’re not avoiding you completely, all you’re really going to draw is pity.
Royal Purple: I hate it when you make sense…
The Dragon: That’s most of the t-
Royal Purple: Why did you let it get this far?
The Dragon: You mean why did you get yourself this far?
Royal Purple: Yeah! No...maybe...
The Dragon: Well look - You let it get this far, nobody else you can blame. You’re four years into this business now, and yeah I’ll still fly around the world with you and watch you night in, night out, but you don’t need me. You know that, I know that, we can go through the match on YouTube the next day and talk it though, I’m just a sounding board for you now. You controlled your own destiny from the moment you took a chair to the head of the guy your parents picked in your place, so you don’t put it on me when I’m not holding your hand 24/7 anymore. How many times have we seen it, guys strung up on alcohol, drugs, prescription painkillers...steroids...wrestling is so full of it all, there’s always temptation. You remember how you used to worry about how unpredictable, how desperate they seemed sometimes? Now you’re going down the same path.
Royal Purple: You drink all the time why have you never gone there?
The Dragon: Well...Why do I drink, *beep*?
Royal Purple: We’re doing real names again now?
The Dragon: Someone’ll beep it out.
Royal Purple: HA! You’ve said that before.
The Dragon: Stop stalling - Answer the question.
Royal Purple: I don’t know. To feel good?
The Dragon: Do you feel good when you drink?
Royal Purple: I feel less shitty about things for a while? Then I feel more shitty the next day I guess?
The Dragon: So no then.
Royal Purple: It did at the start. Can you like...get to the point? Why do you drink?
The Dragon: To fit in.
Royal Purple: You’re fucking kidding right?
The Dragon: Nope. Drinking, or worse, is just like a means to an end for me you know? If I stay and have one more drink, it gives me an excuse to be social for longer. Someone pops a pill, hell yeah I’ll have one of those too, I’m all in tonight, with you guys for the long haul. Difference is I don’t have an addictive personality, I know I can sink a few beers one night and not touch one again for a few weeks after. If I’m on my own, I stick to coffee, or water. All I need. Plus, most things don’t affect me as much as they do other people. You know how I know?
Royal Purple: You experimented?
The Dragon: I experimented. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Royal Purple: I’m experimenting too…right now...
The Dragon: You’ve experimented. You boarded a runaway fucking train set for rock bottom, you don’t know how to get off, so you tried going even harder at it, and now Royal Purple’s royally fucked.
Royal Purple: How do I get off then?
The Dragon: Go to your meetings for a start, they’re meant to help!! But seriously the way I see it, you have two choices. Take the mask off, do it before your next match, sit back and watch the bidding war when other companies see who Sin City have had languishing in stealth mode in their development territory. SCW will quite happily cash in on their little resident alcoholic and you can get outta here on a big pay day, fresh start, fresh faces, fresh company in whatever city came out the highest bidder. We put the old band back together, me, Devinee, Octane, we’ll all uproot ourselves from our own lives to try and glue you back together while you get a bunch of opportunities fed to you on a plate…
Royal Purple: Sucks for you guys. Or?
The Dragon: You REALLY embrace this Royal Purple thing and become something they truly fear. Outside the ring sure, but inside the ring even more so. I’m talking full-send nasty bitch level embracing though, not just knocking my coffee outta my hand and calling yourself a badass.
Royal Purple: What would you pick?
The Dragon: Well I’m enjoying spending weekdays in Miami too much to give it up right now, so option 2. Look - If you truly believe this whole GRIME thing can help you get a few things out of your system, some pent-up anger and aggression or something, and as long as nobody gets hurt permanently, I can wait to get my superstar student back. Besides, I figure I’ve got a few months until Amber gets bored of having me around the house all the time too, so have at it.
Royal Purple: Thanks, coach. How bad was I out there? Gimme it straight.
The Dragon: Considering how...erm...underprepared you were, it wasn’t a terrible match. Trying to force a Twist of *beep* twice was a little amateur hour, don’t think I’ve ever seen that kind of desperation from you...but then again the kid kicked out of one of your finishers in her debut, I wouldn't be too disheartened. Even cats only have 9 lives, you’ll get revenge on her at some point.
Royal Purple: So I guess I still need this mask huh?
The Dragon: Yup. The purple hair suits you anyways. Oh, and I might be able to defend my Blast from the Past crown with you sticking around! Bonus. See you around Royal Purple!
Royal Purple: Wait - Wanna grab dinner with me or something? Waffle House?
The Dragon: There’s no Waffle House in Vegas.
Royal Purple: You’re kidding!?!
The Dragon: Nope - I was heartbroken, nearest one’s in Phoenix. Gonna take a rain check though I’ve gotta fly. My queen’s waiting for me in Florida.
The Dragon pushes himself off the bench, making his way for the exit.
Royal Purple: Hey Mark?
The Dragon: Yeah?
Royal Purple: How far is Phoenix?
The Dragon: About 300 miles. And you’re definitely still over the limit. Get a taxi, order room service, pretend it’s Waffle House hash browns, it’ll be fine...
The Good
We are taken to Royal Purple’s apartment where she is joined by Katie, her girlfr...some girl that hangs out at her apartment sometimes...as they pile empty beer and vodka bottles into a bin. The pair high five as the camera shifts to the kitchen area, where they are both pouring away half-filled bottles of spirits into the sink. Royal Purple hesitates holding a bottle of Crown Royal whiskey, hovers it above the sink in a shaky hand, before she attempts to pull the bottle towards her mouth. Realising in time, Katie takes hold of her wrist with both hands and the pair begin to struggle with each other, the bottle eventually falling and breaking in the sink as Royal Purple screams for her fallen comrade.
The scene snaps outdoors. Royal Purple appears in shot, strolling along the sidewalk with the camera leading in front. As she passes an old lady waiting to cross the street, Royal Purple stops, doubles back, and approaches the lady slowly. The scene skips forward in time, as we watch Royal Purple help the lady across to the other side as the lights change. The pair exchange a hug.
The scene snaps again, this time to a church hall. A group of people sat around on chairs can be seen as Royal Purple, occupying one of the seats, stands up to address the group.
Royal Purple: Hi, I’m Royal Purple, and I’m an alcoholic.
Group: Hi Royal Purple![/i]
Part 2 - GRIME’s Best Bombshell
The scene opens to Royal Purple’s apartment, where she perches on her couch in the middle of the space. Sitting on the bed in the background, out of focus is Katie, Royal Purple’s...well...we don’t really know what she is. The apartment is empty of all evidence of alcohol, and actually looks tidy and clean.
Royal Purple: Sooooo I guess you figured out who my superstar coach was huh? Mark “The Dragon” Cross. You weren’t supposed to find out about that by the way, not now, not ever, and I’d have stayed under this mask completely anonymous if I could, slipped away under my terms, and somewhere down the line Royal Purple would never have been seen again. Probably burned the mask on the beach in some kinda ritual or whatever as I got over my issues, and you know what? Maybe that’ll happen one day still, but whatever, the secret’s basically outta the bag. Now hey I’m not the only student of Mark’s that he’s shipped off to Japan but who am I kidding, it’s narrowed the list down to like four people. I’m sure you can figure it out who’s hiding out under here if you wanted to. I just don’t think many people care. They’re not longing to be free of the constant torment that Royal Purple brings, cause she isn’t doing her job well enough. They don’t care about facing me in the ring and maybe that’s where it went wrong most of all. I just haven’t fucked up enough people’s days for them to be glad to see the back of that damn mask, and that means I have unfinished business. Ya know I thought I had this perfect plan, where I could get on the GRIME bandwagon and give myself a little breather ya know? Step out of the limelight, so I have a few chances to screw up without it being a big deal or anything and hey, I went and I screwed THAT up too. I became the girl everyone felt sorry for when I wanted to be someone to fear. Then just to make it worse? I sit and complain about that too. Almost begged you all to please, please hate me. What. A. Letdown.
She shakes her head at herself.
Royal Purple: I think Japan...like this all fell apart when I got out to Japan...I think it would have been easier if it was just me, ya know? The only English speaker out there. I mean sure it would have been hard, especially at first, but I guess wrestling is kinda a universal language right? I probably woulda just gone to training, gone to my hotel afterwards, watched tape on my opponents, watched Netflix, spent four months bored outta my skull unless I was in the dojo, or in the ring. After all, it was the life I’d known since the age of fifteen, when I walked into a wrestling gym to see what my Dad and Grandpa went through in their careers, and it turned out I had this like...natural ability or something. I trained, I studied, I travelled to shows when I didn’t have school, or I wrestled locally when I did. Maybe it all happened too soon or something, I was so like...I didn’t have time to be a kid, or act like a teenager, cause I didn’t have the kinda job where I could just phone it in if I didn’t feel like it, and look at who I had teaching me I mean the fucking work ethic on that guy! It makes me sick sometimes ya know? I had a rare chance to let my hair down, a little group of English speaking girls in a foreign country who vowed to stick together, help each other, and have a lot of fun on the way...and boy did I let that hair allllllll the way down. All the way down to the bottom of the barrel, or the bottle, or the can, whatever.
She holds out her arm, spinning around to indicate the much tidier apartment.
Royal Purple: I’m done with that now, I get that. I was looking in the wrong places, when actually I had it right that first time, when I spoke to Dev. Why do people choose not to mess with Mark Cross too much? Because they’re scared he’ll make them look bad in the ring. The end. He lets his wrestling do the talking and honestly for that guy it’s all he needs to make a career, cause we all know he’s not funny, right? Like, at all. Ever. The girl under this mask? She was likeable, even loveable, no crazy gimmicks, no big hangups, just an ordinary girl with an extraordinary skill, or something. Oh and she won a whole bunch of matches too. She was faster than everyone else. She had better instincts than everyone else. She was probably training harder than most too, ‘cause that’s the way her gym taught everyone how to train. She was a winner, a champion, a shining star, and it was fucking awesome to be her most of the time.
She stares down at her feet for a moment, letting that sink in.
Royal Purple: Wow, so I guess I miss it more than I thought I did...huh…
She takes another few seconds, a few audibly deep breaths, before pressing on.
Royal Purple: So I guess I’m starting “Dry January” after all, and at Climax Control I get the chance to qualify for the Bombshell title, my one shot at redemption...OMG I didn’t even mean that, ha! I thought this was a chance to lose myself, be someone, anyone other than what I was before, even if it was just for a while. I chose to stagger a new, drunken path and see where it leads...when all I really needed to do was find a way back to me. Maybe the drunken path was leading back to me all along, it was just gonna take longer...and I don’t wanna wait for THAT whole scenario to play its course, so I’m staging my own intervention. With help, of course. It’s gonna be hard, but it’s gotta be done, and this is where we’re at now. Pulling myself up from the bottom...and it’s strange, kinda funny actually, when you’re clawing yourself up on the way back, and you find yourself passing someone on the way, and we fall quite nicely to Alice Knight - It’s rare when even I can take the moral high ground, but when stealing packets of ketchup to feed yourse-
Katie: She’s not poor anymore.
Royal Purple: Huh?
Katie: Alice Knight has money now.
Royal Purple: Motherf-
The scene cuts suddenly. The image reappears a moment later, showing Royal Purple again.
Royal Purple: Hey guys, Royal Purple here, sliiiiiight technical difficulties, but we back, so nobody panic! Alice Knight...found your way into money somehow huh? It’s gotta be a complete fluke right? There’s no way it’s gonna be a sound investment strategy from a girl who tried to hug her hedge funds and es-grow plants in the woods for her and her animal friends or something, that’s for damn sure. I mean...it’s a miracle...but I guess I owe you an apology Alice, ‘cause I hope you didn’t lose too much in hazard pay for that musician that took a steel chair in the face in your service cause lawsuits...yeah those get EXPENSIVE right?
A fresh angle of the Alice Knight attack appears on screen, in slow motion. We’re able to see the first strike on Alice, then on the musician, which had previously been out of shot.
Royal Purple: I never really talked about that night, so maybe we can now instead. You wanna know why I came after you, Alice? Because you...like...legit scare me, honestly. I mean, I get it, I’m not exactly Stable McStableson right now, and after a few months of hanging around with some of the guys and gals in GRIME...like some of them REALLY need Jesus or something in their lives...but I can kind of...connect with them on a level too. We all wear our masks for...reasons. Some of us may have the same or similar reasons, some might be off the complete other end of the spectrum, but it’s kind of like we can all relate to each other on some kinda level. We may not understand, but we respect, and the whole thing just kinda works in a weird brotherhood kinda way. Plus, look how many times I can say kinda! Yaaaaaay! Oh...but then we have...well...you.
The scene returns back to the couch.
Royal Purple: You, who takes a solid chair shot while you’re already on the floor, and hoots at me. Fucking hoots away like we’re all having a good time, that’s just messed up. No judgement or anything, struggles with mental health is no joke, but people that shriek in public, or make animal noises, or actually enjoy pain? Like you guys freak me the eff out, that kind of unpredictability? I just...don’t wanna be near it. So I go after it with a chair, try and stamp it out, drive it outta town. Make that particular brand of crazy realise that coming back here was a bad idea after all. There’s having issues to work through, and there’s just plain...unhinged. Please, go ahead and live your best life...just...not here please.
Royal Purple makes a shoo’ing motion.
Royal Purple: Get out Alice, go back from whence you came, because it’s not the boogeyman, the babadook, the monster under the bed that haunts me, I’m faster than all of those guys put together, good luck catching me, but it’s people like you, honestly. I can’t tell if you’re gonna sing at me hug me attack me laugh at something and not tell me what you’re laughing at hack my Instagram or start some kinda demonic ritual on the floor of my apartment. I just can’t read you when you’re like that. It makes me uneasy, it makes my skin crawl. I can’t predict you, but I can control you. And Owl be watching you…
Katie chuckles at the awful pun in the background.
Royal Purple: You know what baffles me most about owls? They’re always portrayed as old, wise creatures in cartoons and storybooks and hey, the whole thing was just a lie. We got lied to as children, didn’t we? As it turns out owls are dumb fuckers. Owls, who go out in the rain get wet, can’t fly ‘cause their wings are too heavy, can’t hunt ‘cause they can’t fly, and starve to death. Darwin’s theory on display. The very human embodiment of this “magnificent” creature, your next Bombshell champion, Alice Knight everybody!! Can you believe that? I sure can’t. It isn’t going to happen Alice, this is a glimpse of your future. Start up another sing-song in the corridors and I’ll be there, with my chair. Try and bring any of your old hobo friends around the arena and I’ll be around, with my hands bound. Whenever you go crazy, I won’t be lazy, and when that bell rings, I’m gonna make it sting. Inside or outside of the ring Alice, I have your number, and by the time Sunday night ends I’ll have proved it to you in all ways. You seem like a free-spirited kinda gal, not the type to be shackled or held down. So please, do yourself, do me, do everyone a favour and disappear alright? Before I have to lock this little birdy everyone loves so much in a cage. Thaaaaaanks!
The Bad
From her vantage point, Royal Purple pushes herself up to her feet and approaches the ring, reaching into the pocket of her hoodie. She retrieves a shiny metal tool as she makes a bee-line for the ring post the tech had just finished working on. She matches her rhythm to the tech, masking the sound as she undoes his good work on the rope he’d just attached there. A few moments later, as he moves to check the tension on the rope to his right, the left side of it drops.
Royal Purple: Oops.
We are taken to the backstage area of a Sin City show, where a small collection of fans with VIP backstage passes can be seen milling around. One in particular, who looks around thirteen or fourteen and sporting a GRIME shirt, seems to spot one of his favourite wrestlers approaching as his face lights up.
Fan: Royal Purple can I get an auto-
A wave of liquid from Royal Purple’s cup splashes in the face of the fan as she passes.
Fan: -graph…
The scene switches to two fans in the same backstage area, excitedly discussing their predictions for the night’s matches as they try to find a bin for their food wrappers and drinks bottles. They spot one and make their owner, the braver of the two lifting the lid.
Royal Purple: OH HEEEEEEEEY!
Royal Purple springs up from out of the bin, causing the two fans to turn tail and run. Royal Purple laughs away to herself hysterically, so hard that she has to lean on the side of the bin with her full weight to try and compose herself.
Royal Purple: Oh fuck!
The shift in weight causes the bin to tip, leaving Royal Purple no time to react as it hits the deck, spilling her out of it as she continues to find the whole thing hilarious.
[/i]
Royal Purple: I swear it’d be a miracle if Alice actually does disappear, and hey from one miracle to another, Lord have mercy on our souls, Mercedes Vargas is somehow still here, held together with paperclips and bubblegum and who knows what else I reckon, but at least she still gives it a good go, right?. She’s like that dependable piece of furniture where you can just stick bits right back on when they fall off, and you put up with it because they’re just so comfortable and worn in and flawed but in that just perfect way that you like, ya know? The kind where they’re so beaten down that they’ll do whatever you want without any arguments? Absolute management dream that is. Hey Mercedes, wanna go into a number one contender match with some wrestlers that belong there now, like you used to be able to a few years back? Yeaaah you do! Good girl! Head pats for youuuuu!
Royal Purple yawns under the mask.
Royal Purple: Ya know I looked it up, prize fighters, in boxing? They average maybe 80-100 matches in their careers and you know what? They just get punched in the face, and after their head bounces off the canvas a coupla times? The referee is waving his arms around like he’s trying to bring a plane in to land or something trying to call it off. Wrestlers, we get punched in the face, kicked in the face, dropped on our head a lot, choked out by boots, arms, ropes, chains, all that fifty shades kinda BS...and hey if you’re into that then try wrestling my friend, it’s the sport for you! But seriously, Five. Hundred. Plus. Matches. I just...I can’t even…
She shakes her head, trying to comprehend, but she can’t even...
Royal Purple: Mercedes Vargas is washed up, gonna just say it. Wait, I already did, but yeah, she’s gotta be ya know? Wanna tell me that 12 years on, 45 matches a year every year, that she rolls outta bed with anywhere near the same pep in her step as she used to? Wanna pretend like this is still fun for her? Like she still stares at all her spreadsheets, dreams of what records she can break next, what victims she can add to her list and cross off? I mean...fucking nerdhousery of the year award to her for all that as well right? Spends half of her free time writing up all her stats in coloured pens, and spends the other half looking for discount codes so she can get some different coloured pens and REALLY start spicing things up? Unbelievable. You’d think after like...550 matches or whatever she’s up to now, Mercedes might have already seen it all...but she hasn’t seen anything like me before. To be honest? She probably won’t see anything like me even when we’re out there, just flashes of purple glow and purple hair moving too fast for her poor battle-worn body to be able to react to in time. She’ll be like that husky that tried to catch fog once, missing me, getting close...kinda...but never making it stick.
She stretches out her back, feeling it click, so satisfying.
Royal Purple: Every day’s a school day Mercedes, even for you, and I’ll let you have this one for free. Sit back and look at what the future holds for this business when you see me go to work. Take all of those matches under your belt, all that experience, and figure out how you can stop the tenacity, the velocity, the unrelenting assault, the escapability that I bring down to the ring with me. At Climax Control we both have distractions, decoys, lucky for you...but one day it might just be you and me. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no escape. I’m too fast for you, too hot to handle, too much potential, too high of a ceiling. Sunday night, some other Sunday night, some Supershow, if you somehow manage to scam another title reign. I will take you down. Watch. And. Learn.
Royal Purple glances at her watch, suddenly realising that she doesn’t own a watch.
Royal Purple: One more to go huh? And g’day mate it’s that sheila Krystal Wolfe mate?
Katie: Oh my God that accent!
Royal Purple: Nailed it right?
Katie: No! You suck at it!
Royal Purple: Wow, thanks for the support.
Katie: C’mon hurry up I don’t wanna spend ages editing this!
Royal Purple: Well just leave it in! Besides I’m nearly done, ‘cause I just can’t...I can’t waste any time talking about Krystal Wolfe when she’s sooooooo worried about Ruby, who isn’t even in the damn match! Hello? Krystal? You know what Roulette rules are right? A big wheel gets spun before we start, we get some random stipulation just before we go out there, ya know, that we can’t prepare ourselves for, strategise for and shit? We’re gonna all walk out, this giant bell is gonna ring, and suddenly you’re in this crazy new situation with three women, who you’re not worried so much about, who are ready to kick your damn HEAD off, you understand? Me, faster than all three of you combined. Alice, crazy. Just downright crazy and Mercedes...I mean she was good once. She was REAL good once, ya know? Mercedes 300 matches ago coulda messed us aaaaaaall up I tell you, and she might roll back the clock and show out like the good old days, maybe she has a couple of those in the tank, buried real low like right at the bottom, where you’ve gotta get your arm right in there…
Katie: Now who’s wasting time?
Royal Purple: Shut uuuuup I’m getting to the point! Krystal, let me tell you about Ruby. She’s just come off the back of her first ever wrestling match ever. We knew absolutely NOTHING about the girl, zero film to watch, no study material, nothing. Turns out she’s pretty fast, and all amped up on adrenaline she scraped a victory against me when I wasn’t at my best, clap clap, big achievement. Maybe in six months she might be relevant...but she’s a CHILD that WON ONE MATCH. I was a CHILD when I won MY FIRST MATCH and you know what I couldn’t do? Walk around fucking up other people’s title shots. I’d have been gone, black-listed, and my career ruined before I even got started because in wrestling you earn your stripes. That’s just how this business works. Merit. Wins. Titles. The fact that you don’t realise one win against a budget brand’s resident drunk is so meaningless? It makes me take note of just how out of your depth you really are. You’re not focussing on what really matters, the people that can hurt you in just a few days time, that’s a scary thing...for you. I get it, Cyberpunk 2077 came out, Assassin’s Creed Valhalla is grindy af, I’m sure your Twitch Prime subscribers are wanting more and more content from you or whatever, that’s fine. Just...don’t make me laugh talking about insignificant wastes of oxygen over me, or Alice, or Mercedes. Honestly? We don’t care! Spend your whole time looking over your shoulder while we take the opportunity that’s right in front of our faces, we’re all really happy to do that, and save you the burden. Just...please...don’t try and talk like you belong, like you’re on the same level. Three of us are thinking about titles. Your head is still stuck in the minor leagues. Sounds like a no contest to me.
Royal Purple yawns again.
Royal Purple: OK I’m getting tired, so imma just call it here. I...probably don’t deserve this honestly. I get it, I’m not worthy, Royal Purple hasn’t done enough to get this chance...but that’s just one side to me. There’s a side that you don’t see, the side that exists when I pull this mask off, and I know her. I know she’s capable enough to destroy all three competitors in any format, earn her shot, and take the strap. Right now she isn’t feeling strong enough to step out into the light completely, she knows how much is expected of her, the weight her name carries, and she doesn’t feel like she can live up to that right now…but she is in there. She wants to come back. I...want her to come back. Maybe we can help each other. Maybe we can win a title. That sounds like something she would do. We’d all have faith in her, I think.
The scene fades to black.
The Ugly
We are taken to a backstage area, a frantic Candy pacing the corridors.
Candy: FLUFFY? Has anyone seen my dog?
The camera begins to move at speed through the corridors of the arena, before passing through a closed door. The image eventually focusses on Fluffy, who is back against the wall, whimpering softly. The camera backs away, revealing the back of a figure, distinctive purple hair falling back over a black hoodie. The camera moves down to her hand, revealing an unfurled cutthroat razor that hangs menacingly as she surveys the small animal.
We cut to the next scene. A ring tech lays with his face planted firmly against the concrete, Royal Purple’s weight pressed down on him. Royal Purple has a drill, complete with the longest drillbit she could find, pressed to his temple.
Ring Tech: Please! I have a daughter…
Royal Purple: Well you know what you need to do then don’t you?
Ring Tech: O-OK...yeah…
Royal Purple: SAY IT!
Ring Tech: When I tighten the top rope...give it a few extra cranks…
Royal Purple: Exactly. High flyer’s fucking PARADISE out there, got it?
Ring Tech: Y-yeah sure!
Royal Purple: Now listen...you screw me on this, next time I’m plugging the drill in.
Ring Tech: Huh?
It’s not a cordless you dumb fuck! The plug was bouncing on the ground the whole time I was chasing you down the corridor!
Royal Purple releases her grip and removes the drill, climbing to her feet as the tech crawls away from her at speed. Royal Purple swings the unattached cable around in a circle, proving her point. The girl laughs away to herself as she turns to leave.[/i]
*Please note that no puppers were harmed in the making of this content*
